Life of Fuji Syusuke
by Enjie
Summary: Fuji stared as the casket went deeper into the ground, returning to the earth. Light water droplets fell on the brown wood, as if soothing it. Fuji wasn't sure why the tears never came.


Silent Light.

Fuji stared as the casket went deeper into the ground, returning to the earth. Light water droplets fell on the brown wood, as if soothing it. Fuji wasn't sure why the tears never came. They hadn't come when he had been reading the eulogy; they hadn't come when he had kissed the forehead of the person inside the casket and said his farewell. They hadn't come when he had first heard about the accident and even when he raced to the hospital, fervently praying. He wasn't praying to any god or reciting any prayers he had learned as a child. He was simply begging, yes, begging to anything or anyone out there to save the life of one he held dearest. No tears coursed down even as the people around him wailed at the sudden loss. He had simply hung his head and fell on his knees before someone, he hadn't seen who, probably Eiji, escorted him out of the hospital. He had calmly dressed for the funeral. He accepted the condolences with grace and said his thanks as he passed by people, who stopped murmuring, turned to stare at him and patted him awkwardly on the back.

In the night he hugged his pillow to his chest and buried his head into the soft material, seeking warmth but none came, not even the tears. He friends had begun to worry, he knew as much and said he was in shock, in denial, but that wasn't true. The harsh reality and the finality of the situation had hit him full and he had accepted it because Fuji knew denying it didn't make it go away. He would say he had accepted it but not that he had come to terms with it. He had not come to terms with the sudden changes in his life and his lifestyle. These changes were not welcome but nevertheless, he adjusted to it with the constant smile that had come to become his trademark. Years of practice enabled him to smile without putting effort into it and prevented his mask from crumbling even though he was breaking bit by bit on the inside and yet no tears came. Not a single traitorous droplet escaped and Fuji wondered why the tears never came.

He finally emptied the closet that stored the clothes of the dear departed and packed it into neat little boxes addressed to the Good Will charity. He found the scarf he had gifted his future spouse when they were both fourteen and his love was leaving to Germany to rehabilitate. He found the tuxedo he had worn so proudly on October 7, their wedding day and the red silk tie he had bought on their first wedding anniversary. He distinctly remembered they had gone to a restaurant, ordered rice with eel and sauce and wasabi sushi rolls for him. One by one, each item went into the brown cardboard box and with each item; a part of Fuji got locked away into the deepest corner of his soul, preserved and never forgotten but never remembered either.

He came across several such clothing items and he packed it all away except the elephant cuff links made of amber stones. He couldn't throw that away. His friends Eiji and Oishi helped him carry it all to the boot of his car.

People constantly visited his apartment. Some tried to be cheerful, joking and laughing and some paused awkwardly, cleared their throat and opened their mouths several times like a gold fish but no words came. They were the worst as they reminded him, not that he forgot, but they made it come back swiftly and rapidly, making Fuji gasp for breath.

He is a renowned photographer, artist, academic scholar with double doctorate in psychology and Medieval Arts, teacher and a widower. He is all of these things and yet none of it described who he really was, what he felt and what he wished he felt- the salty wetness of tears on his cheeks.

Death had had a profound impact on his view of life. Things had become clearer as if he had been seeing things with a fog clouding him and now, it was suddenly gone. He no longer races through life; he pauses to take notice of little things had made life truly pleasurable. He understands why each one is here on earth; he understands the true purpose of life and its calling. He understands death and most of all he understands life. He is grateful but still his eyes remain azure, starling blue and dry.

He came across the street tennis courts on his way home from work, when in his younger days; he played extensively on these solid grounds. There are a lot more courts than they used to be thanks to his spouse who had given Japan hope for the first time since Nanjiroh Echizen. Several children, not more than five or six years in age, are playing a make shift game of doubles. He stands there, fascinated and lost. He reaches his hand to brush a few strands of hair from his face and is surprised to feel wetness. He looks up and the crystal blue of sky embedded with golden sun makes him squint.

He is running, running to the place he has frequented everyday for the last eight months. He kneels before the grave and places a neon orb on the grave. The tennis ball moves a little but comes to a standstill soon. Fuji laughs as the tears course down his cheek, unrestricted and free. He finally let's goes. The wind dances in his hair laughing, crying and soothing at the same time. Fuji turns around and walks back to his apartment, smiling genuinely for the first time in a long time. He does not look back.

The marker on the grave reads:

Here lies

Tezuka Kunimitsu

Beloved son, friend and husband.

October 7 1988 – February 29 2008.

A/n: this is the first time I have attempted something like this. For those of you who don't know Tezuka's DOB is on October 7 and Fuji's is on February 29. I am guessing the year 1988 based on when the manga was released and their ages in it.

Please review and tell me what you think.


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